


remembrance

by interstellarstrut



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 03:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18327704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarstrut/pseuds/interstellarstrut
Summary: remembering isn't always easy. sometimes you just have to shoulder up and do it.





	remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> one of these days i will write something with these two that isn't hurt/comfort. unfortunately that day is not today.  
> i hope you enjoy!

It’s a mindset that comes and goes, pushing and pulling them around like a wave. They tried to fight it, at first. It felt unproductive and draining. That didn’t keep it at bay for long, though, and they’ve come to recognize it may be a good thing, relatively speaking. Something that puts their world into perspective and reminds them why they’re here in the first place.

Will has long since given up on dragging them out of it, too. Whenever he walks in to see Lion staring out the window, hand tucked under their chin, with _that_ look on their face, he tries to leave them be. It’s important, he supposes, and it helps them remember the heart. _Her_ heart. Nothing wrong with it as long as they come back out of it eventually.

Today, they’re doing it again. They were curled up in the armchair with a book while Will was busying himself grooming Diana, but now that he’s done, they’re staring at nothing. The book sits at a dangerous angle in their lap, their thumb just barely holding their spot as it threatens to fall to the ground. Lion’s elbow is propped against the arm of the chair, and the sun filtering through the window casts soft shadows over their face. If he didn’t know any better, it’d be a moment Will wants to capture — a gentle evening and an even gentler Lion.

But, of course, he does know better. They’re idly twisting the successor ring on their finger, something that tells him exactly what they’re thinking about. He questioned why they still wear the ring, once; a reminder, they told him, and left it at that.

Diana sneezes in his lap, jolting Lion out of their thoughts. They don’t smirk when they catch him staring, as they usually would. They bring both hands up to untie their hair — the book doesn’t stand a chance now and goes crashing to the floor — and then to their temples, pressing lightly and squeezing their eyes shut. Will waits for them to speak before he does, but he stands and sets Diana in their lap. They huff out a laugh and slip their hands through her fur, then move over so he can share the seat.

“I was always the one to take care of Mother when she had headaches. Never thought they’d be passed down,” Lion says.

“Go lay down, then.”

“I don’t want to.”

Can’t argue there, he supposes. Will shifts in the seat so his back is against the arm of it, his knees bumping against theirs. Diana takes the opportunity to stretch over both pairs, as if she’s found the spot for maximum petting. Her newly brushed fur is softer than usual to the touch, and Lion’s own hair spills around her as they lean forward to nudge their forehead against hers.

“It’s been a while, I think,” they murmur.

He shrugs, and, after deciding that she has had quite enough physical contact for the moment, Diana jumps to the floor, using his leg as a launchpad. “You don’t have to keep thinking about her.”

“I feel like I’m obligated to. It’s not like anyone else will.”

“Okay, well, that’s not really true.”

Lion sends a sidelong glance to him, and their posture slips, curling in on themself for a moment. “I know. That’s why I said _feel_.”

The sun has sunk further behind the horizon, leaving a brilliant strip of orange before fading into black. They turn towards the window once more and tuck their chin in their hand. He’s expecting them to say more, but after a long while, they let out a hard breath and shrug. Waiting them out is the best option, he thinks, so he does. The air is calm around them, almost a sense of security. He tugs one of his legs up onto the cushion to pull it to his chest, and he lays his head against the palm of his hand. He’ll wait.

The orange has dissipated by the time they turn around. They press their back against the chair arm at first, crossing their arms over their chest, but then shift over to lean against Will. “Sorry,” they mutter.

“Why?”

Lion peers up at him, their brow knit. “What do you mean, ‘why?’”

“Why?” He repeats.

They watch him for a moment, unsure if he’s about to elaborate or laugh or leave them hanging. It’s the third, of course, and they tuck their head back against his arm as they speak. “I hate when I get like this, so I know you do, too.”

“You had thousands of timelines of your own life dumped into your brain all at once. I’d say you’re allowed to be mopey sometimes.”

“‘Mopey,’” they scoff, but his words carry a sense of relief — just in that dumb Willard way.

“As long as you’re still living your own life, too. That’s all she asked of you, after all,” he says.

“Of course I have my own life. It’s just… Hard to ignore hers sometimes.”

“Then don’t ignore it. She’s a part of you, but only a part. Your life is first. You already know this, Lion. Just stop thinking so much. Look, you’ve given yourself a headache.”

“You know what, I’ll give you that one.” They try to sound stern, trying and almost failing. “I know that. We both know that. ...It’s strange, is all.”

“For once in your life, let yourself feel things,” Will says.

They intended for the look they gave him to be much sharper, but a wobbly smile betrays them. “Fine. I’ll be mopey all I want, then.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sure it is.”

Will rolls his eyes, but as he goes to reply, a clatter sounds from the kitchen, enough to make Lion jump. He sighs and stands up, his joints creaking like an old man’s. “Between you and Diana figuring out how to demand room service, I’ll be in the ground before you know it.”

They grin at his retreating back, and it fades into a softer smile as they look down at the one-winged eagle on their finger. They twist the ring for a moment, allowing themself to be swept up in their thoughts once more, just until Will returns. As food clatters into Diana’s bowl, they tip their head back against the seat, hands folded in their lap.

“Thank you.”


End file.
